Unexpected Occurrences over Vintage Cars
by luffyluffy
Summary: Bittenfeld finally gets that vintage car he's always wanted and he begins on repairing it right away, but when Mecklinger arrives things get kinky.


Bittenfeld had come into possession of a car. Not just any car either. It was an old car, a very old car. It was bright red, contained no autopilot, and even ran on old fossil fuels. So, he took it up as his dream project to fix the car, and now, with his boosted salary from Lord Reinhard, he was finally ready. So he began, working a little each day. Today, he was tinkering around underneath it, dressed in only a (now stained) wifebeater and a pair of blue jeans. 'Stained' was an understatement. He was positively filthy, covered in all manner of gunk and oil, which is why, when his lover Ernest Mecklinger came into the garage holding an unopened can of Bittenfeld's preferred beer, it was promptly dropped with shock. The noise startled Bittenfeld, who rolled out from under the car.

"Ernie! Wow, I didn't see you there."

He stood and grabbed the beer, digging his nail under the tab, walking over to Mecklinger.

"Did you get this for me?"

Mecklinger was staring him down, frozen in place, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights. Bittenfeld chuckled and opened it. It exploded ferociously, spraying cold frothy beer all over him. He yelped and held it out and away, but the damage bad been done. It soaked clean through his shirt, exposing his nipples through the cheap fabric, and that was all it took. Mecklinger lost it, shoving Bittenfeld against the car, grabbing his head and kissing him. It was a ferocious kiss, with lots of passion and tongue. While Bittenfeld squirmed around Mecklinger slid a hand under the wet shirt and pinched one of the now perked nipples. With this, Bittenfeld yelped and yanked away.

"Ernie, what the hell is up with you?!"

Mecklinger pulled back, clinging to Bittenfeld's shoulders, his face flushed with arousal.

"Fritz, mein liebe, I can't explain it or help it." He took a deep shuddering breath and with his other hand cupped Bittenfeld's crotch. Bittenfeld raised an eyebrow as Mecklinger fondled him.

"Let me." he hissed, no, _begged_. Bittenfeld stared down at him before finally getting the ramifications of what Mecklinger was asking. There was fumbling as Bittenfeld's pants were dropped. The only sound in the garage was that of Mecklinger dropping to his knees and pealing off the remaining layer of clothes with his teeth. He then grabbed Bittenfeld's half-hard cock and quickly started to lick and massage the sides with his tongue. Bittenfeld was putty in his hands in an instant. Once he was fully hard Mecklinger got to work immedtially, his own sudden lust surprising even himself. He took Bittenfeld into his mouth entirely, his gag reflex having vanished long ago. Bittenfeld was startled by how much Mecklinger must have wanted this. In an instant he had a fistful of shiny black hair and his face buried into his elbow, only able to mewl pathetically as he was quickly driven over the edge. He had no qualms about it really, as he slammed his head against the hood of the car and came hard into Mecklinger's mouth. He swallowed every last drop before pulling back and looking around, somewhat frantically. Bittenfeld slumped against the side of the car and closed his eyes. He heard the noise of movement, of another pair of pants joining his on the garage floor. When he opened them again, he saw Mecklinger in front of him, naked from the waist down. He flushed for a moment as his eyes trailed from Mecklinger's silently begging eyes to his outstretched hand, to his crotch where his cock was already erect and begging for attention. He took Mecklinger's hand. In a single moment he marveled at his lover, at the way those hands could be so firm and yet so gentle. The way they could bring forth emotion in a painting and how they could make a piano sing. Bittenfeld grasped the hand that he loved so much and lead him around to the hood of the car. He then bent Mecklinger over the car and slide a hand up the creamy pale skin and the curve of his back, pressing his thumb against the spine. Hie hand trailed low, down to the small of Mecklinger's back, and ontop the butt he so cherished. In a moment of impulse he smacked it lightly and Mecklinger let out a yelp. It made Bittenfeld smile, as he now turned down to inspect the butt he had grown so accustomed to. After several seconds he noticed the issue with the situation: He wouldn't be read to have another Orgasm for anytime soon, and they both lacked lube. It made Bittenfeld angry, irrationally so. Even though Mecklinger was offering himself so readily, he couldn't give his lover the pleasure he so deserved.

_Maybe I can use the motor oil._ He joked to himself as he looked around, only to notice Mecklinger looking at him over his shoulder.

"The beer can." he said softly but anxiously. "Use the condensation from the beer can."

It was as good an idea as any. Bittenfeld quickly adapted this idea and readied a finger outside, resting gently against the soft puckered flesh.

"Sorry Ernie." Bittenfeld began. "I can't do anything other than this for the time being."

"It's fine, just give it to me, Please Fritz."

He nodded and braced Mecklinger's hip with his free hand and pushed the finger in. Mecklinger was used to this routine by now and simply squirmed around the finger. It wasn't until the second one was added that he began to feel it, moaning out in that luscious baritone, pushing back as to rock himself against the fingers. It made Bittenfeld smile and he rewarded his lover by reaching around and gently grasping the shaft of his penis. Mecklinger grunted approvingly as Bittenfeld leaned forward, pressing kisses against Mecklinger's shoulder blades. He timed this accordingly with strokes and thrusts down below. Mecklinger balled his hands into fists, knowing that if Bittenfeld kept up this onslaught on his senses he'd be no more in a matter of minutes. It continued mercilessly though, finger's twisting, hands stroking, and Mecklinger getting closer to the slippery edge of the cliff. Bittenfeld found his way up to Mecklinger's ear after kissing and sucking up his neck, leaving passionate marks in poorly chosen places. When he reached the ear, he alternated between whispering filthy things and nibbling on the sensitive flesh. Mecklinger's voice, usually so deep, quiet, wily like a fox, became increasingly loud and passionate until finally he came, splattering all over Bittenfeld's hand and the hood of the car. He lost control of his body for just a second and nearly tipped over. Bittenfeld pulled him back, removing his fingers, and letting Mecklinger lean against him. His face was still flushed, but in a different way from earlier. He was panting, his face slick with sweat from the whole experience.

"Well, that was quite an ordeal, now wasn't it Ernest?"

Mecklinger looked up, his hair sticking to his sweaty face, and smiled.

"Fritz..." He said, his voice tired yet warm, filled with love. He cupped Bittenfeld's cheek for a moment, before looking down to the car.

"I messed up your pet project. Oh, Fritz, I'm sorry, I just got overwhelmed." Bittenfeld smiled, pushing Mecklinger's hair out of his face with his pinky.

"Don't worry about it Ernie. Think of it as... you're own personal contribution to the paint job."

They both started to laugh.


End file.
